


Keep a Knockin'

by LordValeryMimes



Category: Mad Men
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Fix-It, Hotel Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-30 17:53:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10881945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordValeryMimes/pseuds/LordValeryMimes
Summary: What really happened to Sal after that fire alarm incident at the Belvedere Hotel?





	Keep a Knockin'

**Author's Note:**

> I'm coming to Mad Men rather late in the game. I started watching the show a couple of months ago and I'm only up to season four so far, so I have a long ways to go. However I was really, REALLY disappointed with what happened to Sal Romano's character and thought he was robbed in the episode Out of Town. This fic seeks to fix his story-line and give Sal a much needed break and a chance at future happiness.

Thick droplets of water fell from Sal’s parted lips as the cold shower sprayed down on him. He braced his hands against the smooth tiles of the wall as he took one deep breath after another. Try as he might to slow the rapid beating of his heart, it continued to drum in his chest like the hoofbeats of an unbroken stallion. He closed his eyes and let his head hang down, the water tracing frozen fingers through his hair. He shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold.  

Over and over again his mind replayed through the last hour. The softness of the bellhop’s lips when they’d first brushed against his, the heat as he’d kissed him again with more urgency, the dizzying sensation of intoxicating lust as he’d realized just exactly what was happening to him. He groaned as all the emotions swept through him again. It had all happened so fast, and just as soon as it had begun, it was snuffed out like a bucket of water thrown on a campfire.

Sal covered his face with his hands as Don’s accusing face appeared behind his eyelids. He had looked away almost immediately, but a split second was all it took to register the shock, disbelief, and revulsion on his boss’s face. He groaned as he attempted to grapple with the tsunami of emotions that threatened to swallow him whole. What would happen when he had to get back on that flight to New York with Don? Would he ever be able to look him in the eyes again? Would he still be employed? Even greater than the fear was the shame and humiliation. Not just the shame of being caught, but the shame of giving in. Of letting this terrible thing that was inside of him take over. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and let out the deep breath that he’d been holding in.

Worse than all of the shame, humiliation and fear combined was the terrible sense of certainty. The certainty pounded into him relentlessly like the cold water that peppered his skin. Prior to tonight, he could have denied it. Every feeling that he had, every desire, every thought. When he looked at Ken and wondered what it would feel like to run his fingers through that silky blond hair, he could have excused that as just an errant thought. It didn’t have to mean anything. When he found himself staring at the silhouettes of other men in the elevator, admiring the curves and lines of their backs, it didn’t have to matter. Tonight was a different story. He couldn’t excuse away his sharp inhalation of breath as the bellhop had kissed him, or the curse he gasped out as another man’s fingers had reached into the waistband of his shorts. Sal slumped against the chill of the tiles as he let the water wash over him, wishing it would wash away the last hour like it was a bad dream that just needed a cup of coffee and sunshine to disperse.

Sal had always known what he was, even if he never wanted to admit it to himself. Now there could be no more pretending. He was a pansy. A queer. A fag. All those names that he’d heard spewed with such mocking tones in the boys’ locker room when he was growing up, and continued to hear whispered in vicious voices by his gossiping coworkers. Sal felt fortunate that the words had never been directed at him, but each time he heard them a part of him would freeze in terror. Terror that the words would somehow find him, like a divining rod dipping when it found a source of water. That someone would look at him and see through the facade of the three-piece suit, perfect hair, and macho posturing and realize what he really was. That regardless of how much he pretended and even lied to himself, that somehow the word would be emblazoned across his chest for all to see. A scarlet letter F to let everyone know that he, Salvatore Romano, was a faggot.

“Goddamnit,” Sal muttered under his breath as he slicked his wet hair back across his head. “I need a drink.” He grabbed the hotel robe from the hook on the back of the door, not even bothering to towel off his wet skin before he pulled it on.

He walked to the bedroom and opened the door of the liquor cabinet. The pathetic selection of off-brand booze made him grimace. “This place has really gone downhill,” he muttered as he grabbed his flask. A stab of guilt cut through him as he remembered that it had been an anniversary present from Kitty. He opened it awkwardly with shaking fingers and poured himself a heavy shot of Sambuca. He tossed a handful of ice into the glass, not even caring about the mess it made as the liquor sloshed out. Raising it to his lips and slugging it back, he sighed as the taste of anise slapped into his taste buds, burning a spicy trail down his throat.

As the liquor smoldered its way through his veins, he dropped his head and groaned. He could still feel the bellhop's fingers as they had closed around him, squeezing him with a confidence that Kitty could never have duplicated. Sal muttered a whispered curse at the unknown hotel patron who had caused the encounter to end so abruptly. “Testa di cazzo. Who the hell drops a burning cigarette on the carpet and just leaves it there?” As soon as the curse had left his lips the guilt gathered again in the pit of his stomach. “You shouldn't curse them, you should thank them for stopping you from making the biggest mistake of your life,” said the more Catholic part of his conscience. The other part, the one that was more concerned with the fact that he had a semi-erection that refused to go away no matter how long he stood in the cold shower, calmly told the Catholic part to go fuck itself.

He was pouring himself another glass of Sambuca when there was a knock at the door.

Sal belted his robe tighter as his imagination shot into overdrive. “Who the hell could that be?” he thought. “Maybe it’s Don, coming to fire me now and save me the misery of waiting until the morning.” He tiptoed over to the door, his bare feet silent on the carpet, and peered through the peephole. His heart froze in his chest as he recognized the person waiting on the other side of the fisheye lens. It was the bellhop.

Panic flashed through his veins. “Oh my God. What do I do?” There was another knock at the door.

“Mr Romano?”

“Shit, what if somebody hears him?” Sal thought, as he acted on instinct. He unlocked the door and snatched it open. The bellhop smiled up at him seductively.

“Still having trouble with the air conditioner?” He asked as he leaned against the doorframe. Sal glanced anxiously down the hallway before grabbing the bellhop’s shoulder and pulling him into the room. He shut the door behind him and braced himself against it.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Sal asked as he pressed against the door, hoping it would somehow give him the strength to deal with this turn of events.

The bellhop closed the distance between the two of them. “I was hoping we could pick up where we left off,” he said as he slipped his fingers around the belt of Sal’s robe. Sal pushed his fingers away, as he tried to ignore the flush of heat that was already spreading through his body.

“This is a bad idea, you should leave.”

“Why?” The bellhop inquired as he smiled up at Sal. “I thought we were having a good time?”

“Don’t you have some work you should be doing?” Sal tried to inject a hint of scorn into his voice, but it came out quavery and pathetic sounding.

The bellhop wrapped his fingers around Sal’s belt again, and began to wind it slowly around his fist, getting closer to him with every twist. “My shift is over, no one will miss me.” He murmured as he stood on tiptoe to reach Sal’s lips. Sal stiffened as he turned his head away.

“You don’t understand,” he said as a shiver passed through him. “I can’t do this. I just can’t.”

“Why not?” The bellhop stared up at him with his clear blue eyes and Sal shivered again.

“It’s just… I’m married and… I just… I can’t. I just can’t, ok?” Sal tried to string together a more coherent sentence, but the closer the bellhop crept, the weaker his resolve became. “What happened between us earlier… that… that shouldn’t have happened.”

“So what if you’re married? I won’t tell if you won’t.” He slid an arm around Sal’s waist, pulling him close. “And don’t try and tell me that you weren’t enjoying yourself earlier.” He pressed himself fully against Sal and grazed his lips across the exposed skin of his neck. “I could _feel_ it.”

“Oh God,” Sal breathed as he tried to keep his thoughts straight. “You don’t understand,” he repeated. “My boss, he saw us together. He saw me getting dressed and you in the room with me. I don’t even know if I’m going to still have a job in the morning.”

There was a flash of real grief in the bellhop’s eyes. His brow furrowed as he looked up at Sal sympathetically. “Well shit. I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”

“I know,” Sal replied as he let out a heavy sigh.

“But look, so what if your boss saw you? What’s done is done, right? There’s nothing we can do about that, right?”

Sal snorted sarcastically. “I suppose not.”

“So…” the bellhop licked his lips as he wrapped his other hand around Sal’s waist. “What’s to stop us from still having a little fun together? Either way you’re still going to be screwed, right?”

“That’s an apt choice of words,” Sal said with a gasp as the bellhop brushed his hips against the heat of his burgeoning erection. “Oh God.”

“And I’m the sort of guy who likes to finish what he starts.” The bellhop dragged his hands up Sal’s back and threaded them through his wet hair. Sal looked down at him in disbelief as he gazed up at him with pure lust in his eyes. Without giving Sal a chance to protest again, the bellhop lunged forward and kissed him fiercely. He slid his tongue along Sal’s lower lip, making him moan with pleasure. “So what do you say?” he asked as he dotted kisses along Sal's jawline.

Sal didn’t know what to say. He felt like every part of his body was on fire. All he wanted was for the bellhop to keep kissing him, and make it burn hotter and brighter. He panted as he gazed down into the bellhop's eyes and said the only thing he could think to say. “But… I don’t even know your name.”

The bellhop smiled and traced a hand down the lightly stubbled surface of Sal’s cheek. “It’s Stelios.”

“Stelios…” Sal whispered, the Greek pronunciation rolling easily off of his bilingual tongue. Stelios began to undo the knot in Sal’s bathrobe as he kissed him again. “Oh, god,” he breathed as the cool air-conditioned air of the hotel room kissed his bare skin as Stelios opened the front of his robe. The bellhop looked down and cocked an appreciative eyebrow before undoing the buttons on his own uniform and stripping off his shirt.

Sal wanted to scream as both terror and desire battled within him for dominance as Stelios guided him over to the bed. Instead of screaming, he just swore over and over again. “Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.” Stelios kissed him again as he quickly undid his belt and let his pants drop to the floor. Sal looked down, entranced as the bellhop pulled his undershirt over his head. “Jesus,” he cried out as his eyes drank in the bronze skin and smooth muscles. “You’re... beautiful.” He was embarrassed as soon as the words left his lips. Stelios simply smiled up at him and kissed him again. Sal gasped, as the bellhop’s tongue slipped into his mouth tasting sweet and oddly familiar. “Juicy fruit,” he thought absently as he grabbed onto Stelios’s hips to brace himself as his knees went weak. The bellhop put his hands over his and began to push down his shorts. “Oh god,” Sal desperately tried to keep his voice down as he closed his eyes, afraid that if he opened them everything would evaporate away like a forgotten snatch of a dream. He felt the bellhop’s hands on his shoulders as he pushed his robe to the floor. Sal whimpered with pleasure as he felt the heat of the bellhop’s cock rubbing against his thigh. He gave up thinking or caring about anything else as Stelios pushed him down onto the bed.

“Oh god, oh god…” Sal repeated over and over as Stelios straddled him and kissed his neck, sucking and nibbling at the skin of his ear as he aligned their cocks together and pressed his hips into Sal. “Oh god! Oh GOD!” As Sal’s voice reached a fevered pitch, Stelios kissed him to muffle his cries. He closed his fist around the both of them and stroked them together, skin rubbing against skin. Within moments, Sal felt his orgasm building like a tidal wave. “Oh God!” He screamed against Stelios’s lips. “Oh, Jesus god!” Sal arched his back, his head lifting up off the bed as he came hard, spilling over his stomach. He dropped his head back as Stelios moaned, kissing along his neck as he continued stroking their cocks together. Sal lay in a daze as the bellhop grunted in his ear, and he felt another splash of warmth across his chest.

“Oh god,” was the only thought that Sal’s brain could process. “Oh, god. Oh god.” Stelios slid onto the bed next to him and raised himself up on his elbow.

“You want a cigarette?” he asked as he smiled down at Sal.

“Jesus, god, yes.” Sal managed to gasp out between panting breaths. The bellhop laughed as he scooched to the end of the bed and began to fumble in his pockets. “Jesus,” Sal breathed as Stelios slipped a cigarette between Sal’s lips and lit it for him, and then lit one for himself. Sal sucked in a heavy drag, with shaking fingers as the bellhop settled next to him on the bed.

“So,” Stelios said as he blew a hazy cloud over Sal’s inert form. “It’s probably a little late for a line, but do you come here often?”

Sal chuckled, his cigarette bouncing between his lips. “Never with such enthusiasm, I can assure you.” Stelios laughed as he reached for an ashtray and balanced it on Sal’s bare chest. “But actually yes. I’m from Baltimore, I’ve got lots of family here.”

“Let me guess, Little Italy?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Well, with a name like Salvatore Romano, let’s just say I had a hunch.” Stelios’s eyes twinkled as he winked.

“Please, call me Sal.” He took another drag on his cigarette as he shook his head in disbelief, still trying to wrap his head around the situation he was finding himself in. “And let me guess, you’re from Greektown?”

“So much for being mysterious,” Stelios laughed as he flicked the end of his cigarette into the ashtray. “Yes, Greektown mostly. I was born in Greece though: Kavala. I was just a baby when we came over here.”

“How old are you anyway?” Sal asked, wondering if he was making some sort of faux pas, but his curiosity was killing him.

“Twenty-three,” Stelios said as he sucked on his cigarette. “How about you?”

“I’m old enough to be very flattered by the fact that you’re twenty-three. Let’s leave it at that.” Sal shook his head as Stelios laughed at him.

“You don’t have to be self-conscious about it,” he cuddled up against Sal’s side and traced a finger through the salt and pepper hairs on his temple. “I like older men.” Stelios stubbed out his cigarette and squeezed his fingers down Sal’s thigh. “And I like you,” he held Sal’s face in his hands and kissed him slowly and sensually. Sal sighed as he kissed the bellhop back. After a few moments he felt Stelios pressing into him, hard and already ready for another turn.

“Jesus,” Sal said as he reluctantly pulled away. “I’m afraid I’m going to need a bit of a break first.”

Stelios laughed as he sat up. “It’s ok, do you mind if I have a drink?”

“Of course not. I’m going to get a towel.” Sal moved the ashtray from his chest and pushed himself up on his elbows. “Jesus, my head is swimming.”

“Do you want a drink?” Stelios asked as he poured himself a shot of vodka from the mini bar.

“Thanks, I’m good.” Sal dragged himself to his feet with a groan and shuffled his way to the bathroom to clean up.

When he returned, Stelios was leaning against the back of the bed, one knee up balancing his glass of vodka, his eyes closed as he blew out a thin plume of smoke across the room. The yellow light from the bedside lamps illuminated his skin with a golden glow. “Don’t move,” Sal said as he walked over to his suitcase and pulled out his sketchpad and pencils.

Stelios opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow at Sal, “You’re an artist? And here I thought you were some sort of big-shot business man.” Sal laughed as he dragged a chair over to the bed and sat down.

“Hardly,” Sal said with a chuckle as he flipped open to a blank page. “You’re just looking at a lowly art director for an advertising agency.” He pulled out a charcoal pencil and began to sketch.

“Do you want me to pose or…?” Stelios took a sip of his drink as Sal glanced back and forth from the bellhop to his sketchpad.

“Just stay there, you don’t have to be perfectly still, but just try to keep the same basic position.”

The scratching of Sal’s pencil against the paper ticked off the seconds as the time drifted by. Sal sketched feverishly, trying to get down as much detail as he could, but mindful of the fact that his model was an amateur and wouldn’t be accustomed to posing for long periods of time. Stelios finished his cigarette and Sal paused to light him another one, and refill his drink. “Can I see it yet?” Stelios asked as he smiled at Sal.

“Not yet,” Sal said as he went back to his seat and resumed sketching. “Patience. Trees that are slow to grow bear the best fruit.”

“Molière, right?” Sal started in surprise as he looked back at Stelios who shrugged. “I read a lot.”

“Where the hell did you come from?” Sal asked as he shook his head.

“I already told you,” Stelios said as he grinned over at Sal. “Kavala.”

Sal’s eyes grew more intense as they traced along Stelios’s lines and curves, every glance copied by his pencil against the paper. He smudged his fingers along the lines he drew, turning solid blocks of black into soft shadows, and heavy lines into gentle gradations. He held his breath as he explored every inch of Stelios’s body with his eyes, committing every texture and shape to memory as if he were using his hands to feel his way through darkness.

“How about now?” Stelios asked as Sal set his pencil down and exhaled heavily.

“Yes, I think it’s done.” Sal said as he cocked his head from side-to-side, giving his sketch the sort of critical assessment that only an artist can give. Stelios hopped off of the bed and stretched his back before walking around behind Sal.

“Holy shit.” Stelios said as he finished his cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray. He crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned over Sal. “That’s good. That’s really good.”

“Thank you,” Sal said as he squinted down at the drawing in his lap. Stelios stared back at him from the paper, his smile flirtatious, his drink perched on his knee, tendrils of smoke snaking around his figure. The bellhop was right, it was good. Sal couldn’t remember the last time he’d drawn something he’d been so pleased with. “I was lucky, I had an incredible model.”

“You’re too modest,” Stelios said as he took the drawing implements from Sal’s hands and set them on top of the dresser. He slipped his thighs on either side of Sal, and sat in his lap facing him.

“It’s… the curse of the artist,” Sal stammered as Stelios rubbed his hands down his chest. He lifted his hands to wrap them around the bellhop but hesitated when he remembered his charcoal blackened fingers. “I… I don’t want to smudge you.”

“I don’t care,” Stelios replied as he grabbed Sal’s hands and pressed them into the soft flesh of his backside. Sal groaned as he kneaded the bellhop’s soft skin. Stelios grabbed Sal’s face, leaned forward and kissed him. Sal’s head began to swim again as he could feel the bellhop stiffening against him. He threw his head back as the bellhop dragged his tongue down his neck and chest.

“Oh, Jesus.” Sal murmured as Stelios slipped from his lap and slid down between his thighs as he licked his way lower. “What are you doing?”

“Shhh,” Stelios put a finger to Sal’s lips as he continued his way down. “Just try and be quiet.”

“Oh my god, Stelios.” Sal realized what was happening just as the bellhop’s lips began to kiss lightly over the head of his cock. “Oh GOD!”

Stelios laughed as he held Sal’s legs down with his hands. “Shhhh!” he repeated more urgently as he began to lap lightly on the inside of Sal’s thighs.

“Oh Jesus, Oh god,” Sal repeated over and over again like a broken record as the bellhop licked wet lines from the base of his cock to the tip. He could scarcely breathe as Stelios expertly drove him to the edge of delirious ecstasy with his lips and tongue. He gripped onto dark handfuls of the bellhop’s hair, trying to anchor himself on something as he felt himself getting urged ever closer to the edge. Stelios moaned as he looked up at Sal, and slipped his mouth down over his entire length. That image was too much for Sal, it only took a few flicks of the bellhop’s tongue before his orgasm rushed through him, leaving him breathless and gasping. Stelios rested his head against Sal’s thigh and smiled up at him. “Sorry,” Sal panted as he looked down at the bellhop. Stelios shook his head as he stood up, his own cock still jutting from his hips like the prow of a ship. He sat back in Sal’s lap and kissed him gently.

“Why don’t you help me?” He asked as he took one of Sal’s hands and wrapped his fingers around his stiff prick. Still reeling from his own orgasm, Sal chuckled inwardly at the inanity of it all. To think that just a few hours ago he was having dinner with Don and those two ditzy stewardesses, and now here he was with another man’s cock in his hand. He felt like Alice, fallen down an incredibly smutty rabbit hole. He gripped Stelios firmly and began gliding his fingers up and down. Sal watched the bellhop’s face as his orgasm built and began to overtake him. His eyelids grew heavy as he threw his head back and chewed on his lower lip. His lips parted as he moaned and bucked in Sal’s lap. He wrapped his muscular arms around Sal’s neck and kissed him heavily as he came, gasping as he pressed their foreheads together.

They sat for several minutes, waiting to come back to themselves. Finally it was Sal who spoke first. “We should probably clean up.” He didn’t want to mention that his legs were starting to fall asleep.

“Good idea,” Stelios laughed as he dismounted and stumbled his way to the bathroom. Sal laughed as he noticed the black smudges on the bellhop’s backside.

“You look like you’ve been goosed by a coal miner,” Sal called after him.

“It wouldn’t be the first time!” Stelios quipped as he peeked his head out of the bathroom door. “You going to join me?”

“Just give me a second,” Sal said as he pushed himself to his feet, wincing at the pins and needles in his thighs. “God,” he thought as he disappeared behind the bathroom door. “I’d better not be getting too old for this.”

A few minutes later, and much less sticky, they came back into the bedroom. Stelios began pulling on his shorts. “This was fun,” he said as he smiled up at Sal.

“Oh,” Sal said disappointedly. “Do you have to go?”

Stelios paused, his pants halfway up his legs. “Not really, no. You don’t want me to go?”

“I mean if you’ve got something to do that’s fine.”

“No, I don’t it’s just… Normally people don’t like for me to stick around for too long.”

Sal walked over to him, and put a hand on his cheek. “Well I don’t want you to leave. Stay with me? Please?”

Stelios smiled up at Sal, his blue eyes serene as he let his pants drop back to the floor. “Ok, I’ll stay. I’ll have to sneak out the fire escape in the morning, though.”

“That’s fine.” Sal said with a chuckle. “I’m really kind of exhausted right now though. Would you mind if we just sleep?”

“Sleep sounds great actually. I had a long shift today.” Stelios slid back the bedspread and climbed in while Sal went around and turned off the lights. He felt his way to the bed as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. As he slipped between the cool sheets, Stelios’s arms snaked around him. Sal sighed contentedly as they settled into one another. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but he didn’t care. For the moment he was happy, and that was all that mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> I normally write fic for a sci-fi show set in the future with holograms and androids, so writing something like this set in a historical time period was pushing myself way out of my comfort zone. But I felt strongly that this fic needed to be written. In my head there is a lot more to Sal's story, but I figured I would at least just start off with this. If this makes even one person feel a bit better about what happened to Sal, then I'm happy.
> 
> And thanks to janamelie for pushing herself out of her comfort zone to beta a fic for a show she's never even watched. You're the best. :-D


End file.
